


Full-Time Prince, Part-Time Fifth Wheel

by madziraphale



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:39:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madziraphale/pseuds/madziraphale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili's sick of doing nothing but his "princely duties." Couple that with his new role as permanent fifth wheel, and that leaves one disgruntled heir of Erebor. But one night might just change everything</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full-Time Prince, Part-Time Fifth Wheel

Fili let out another sigh as Balin continued to drone on and on and _on_ about the proper customs to be observed for the upcoming Festival of Gemstones. This was the first traditional celebration—since his uncle’s marriage to their hobbit burglar was _far_ from traditional—to be held in Erebor since its rechristening. Fili was thrilled, really he was, but he was also bored beyond belief. And, holding back a groan as he noticed his brother and the Kingdom Under the Mountain’s red-headed elven ambassador making goo-goo eyes at each other _again_ , he was also a little bit lonely. 

Sure, Fili had thought about what it might be like to find his One, to fill the missing gap in his soul with the being the Valar had created just for him, but between recovering from his battle wounds and balancing his duties as heir to the throne, Fili simply had no time to seek out romance. For a while, it didn’t bother him. ‘I’ll find them when I’m ready,’ he thought. But having Kili and Tauriel’s and Thorin and Bilbo’s relationships unintentionally flaunted in his face ever since he woke from his stab-in-the-back-induced sleep was almost as agonizing as the wound itself. 

He was happy for his brother and uncle, of course—he’d always liked Bilbo, and Tauriel had quickly grown on him—but he would not deny that envy had begun to gnaw on his goodwill. The group of them always seemed to be together, and Fili was constantly the out-of-place fifth wheel. If he had to witness his uncle goose Bilbo one more time, he thought he might throw himself from the ramparts. Not to mention, every time he tried to escape and find time for himself, Balin or Dwalin seemed to lurk in the shadows, ready to assign him some logistics project or drag him to the ring for training. In his deep desperation to be away from his princely responsibilities and the onslaught of cute pet names, Fili concocted a plan. 

He had passed by a couple of guards on his way to the council room one morning and heard them talking about a pub they were planning to go to that night. From what he could glean without looking suspicious, the tavern was one of the local hotspots since the mountain had taken up residents again. The ale was plenty and the place was bustling—it was the perfect place for the prince to be alone without actually being alone. Just what he needed.

A tap on his shoulder brought the prince out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Ori staring down at him with concern. 

“Are you okay, Fili?” he asked, “You didn’t really seem…well… _present_ today.” Fili gave the scribe a smile and patted his hand. 

“I’m just great, Ori, really,” the blonde responded, “I just have a lot on my mind is all.” Ori smiled back at him and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before Dwalin swooped his arm around his One’s shoulders, giving the scribe a kiss on the cheek as the two strolled out of the meeting hall. Fili sighed again. Even Dwalin had found his One. Which is why Fili had to put his plan into action. Tonight. 

* * *

 

That evening, Fili had taken his dinner to his personal rooms, reassuring his mother and Bilbo that he was feeling just a tad under the weather and didn’t want to spoil their evening. Both hobbit and princess nodded reluctantly, but let him take his leave. Fili was done his meal before he even turned the corner of the corridor. All that was left to do was snatch his hat and plain clothes from his bedchamber and he was off. 

Fili thanked Mahal that Bofur hadn’t been too suspicious when the prince had asked which hat vendor was the best in Erebor. The faded blue, fir-lined hat hid his blonde hair and braids enough that Fili wouldn’t be recognized on sight. If he kept to himself, his night would go off without a hitch. The prince wove tactfully through the throng of dwarves in the market square, constantly looking ahead of him for the sign that read “The Battering Ram.” 

The heir of Durin smiled as soon as he walked through the entrance of the pub. Lively chatter and laughter and the smell of ale surrounded him, and he felt like he was back on the road with the Company, enjoying a night of merry-making under the stars. Fili thought he heard the sounds of a small band from one of the back corners. He made his way past the multitude of tables and drunken dwarves to get to the bar, squeezing himself into the first open spot he found. The barkeep had their back facing him as they cleaned out a mug. He spoke loudly to be heard over the din.

“‘Scuse me, mate,” Fili said, “could I get an ale when you get the chance?” Fili thought he saw the mop of chocolaty hair in front of him bounce in a nod as the owner of said hair filled the mug they’d just cleaned with a fresh pint of ale. The face and voice that greeted Fili as the barkeep turned were not at all what he expected. 

“Here ya are, sir!” the dwarrowdam said in a cheerful voice. Her eyes were a deep, midnight blue—Durin blue, if Fili really thought about it—and her thick chestnut locks cascaded over her barmaid’s uniform, which showed off the freckles she had practically _everywhere_. She had the beginnings of a beard, though it was more like thick mutton-chop sideburns, and part of her hair was beaded and braided into a crown around her head. She sported an _adorable_ button nose and her _smile._ Mahal in heaven, Fili could’ve watched her smile well into the next age. 

“You okay there, mister?” the barmaid’s hand waving in front of his face thrusted Fili back into reality and he realized he hadn’t responded. His face grew slightly red.

“My apologizes, Miss,” he managed, still not breaking eye contact as he took a swig of his ale, “thank you very much, m’lady.” Fili felt a bit of pride go through him when her cheeks went a little pink. 

“No need to be so formal, mister,” she responded, “just call me Raymel. At your service.” She dipped her head in a bow and Fili did the same. He was saved from having to respond with his own name—thus effectively blowing his cover, since he hadn’t thought of an alias—when Raymel was heralded by an older dwarf on the prince’s left. 

“Raymel, honey!” he slurred, “Why doncha sing us a tune? Somethin’ pretty, like ya always do!” He was loud enough that most of the patrons heard him and chorused their agreement, slamming mugs on tables and sloshing ale through the air. 

“All right all right ya buncha brutes,” she responded, shooting the prince a wink that made him go surprisingly weak at the knees. She walked over to the band Fili had noticed earlier and, with the help of the fife-player, joined the group of musicians on their raised platform. “Now how’s about we go with…” she was cut off when the fiddle-player suddenly slumped out of his chair, hitting the floor with a loud thud. The entire pub winced. Raymel just rolled her eyes. 

“Sorry, love,” the fife-player said, “Grivo’s had one two many pints this evenin’.” Now angry groans sounded through the tavern. Fili sat sipping his ale, more than a little disappointed that he would not get to here the barmaid sing. 

“Any o’ you lads know how to play a fiddle?” Raymel shouted to the sea of patrons. There was a collective grumbling amongst the masses and Fili nearly choked on his drink. Now was his chance!

“I do!” he shouted a little too loudly. The entire congregation of dwarves turned to face him, but the prince’s eyes were trained on Raymel, who wore a bright and beautiful smile. 

“Okay then, hat boy,” she beckoned him over with her finger, “take Grivo’s fiddle here, and try to keep up.” All Fili could do was nod as the instrument was thrusted into his hands. Raymel muttered something to the dwarves behind her and in a moment’s time, they began to play. It took only the first few notes for Fili to remember the song they had chosen. His father used to sing it to their mother as the two swayed around their chambers when they thought Fili was asleep. He had no problem latching onto the tune, though he nearly ripped a string on his instrument when Raymel began to sing. 

Her voice was soft and sweet, and the prince found he was soothed by it as much as he had been when it was his father singing. As he played, Fili locked eyes with Raymel, and the lyrics bounced through his head and flowed through his heart. Something inside of him flamed to life, as though a forge had been set alight in his soul. The barmaid’s cheeks flushed slightly as she sang, but her eyes held a glimmer that made the prince’s breath catch in his throat. 

He barely noticed when the song ended. The entire tavern was silent, most of the patrons resting their heads in their hands with dreamy looks in their eyes. The spell was broken when the dwarf who originally called for the song began to clap and whistle. Soon, the rest of the dwarves joined in, and the band took their bows. Fili tried to quietly step down from the stage, but Raymel grabbed his hand and tugged him back behind the bar, snatching two mugs of ale on the way. She lead the prince to a small table in the back of the pub, surrounded by barrels of ale. 

Fili was slightly breathless as he settled on the stool across from Raymel’s. He regained his wits only when she spoke to him.

“I haven’t heard talent like yours in long time,” she said, “And thank ya for helpin’ out in such a pinch. As merry as those fella’s seem, they like to hear their tunes when they ask for ‘em, especially after a hard day’s work.” Fili sipped his mug embarrassedly. He hadn’t played is fiddle in ages, not since before the quest to reclaim the mountain. 

“You have a lovely voice,” he blurted without thinking. Raymel stared down at her ale, a soft smile on her face. Silence lingered in the air for a short while until the young dwarrowdam spoke.

“I must say,” she began, waiting for Fili to meet her eyes, “I’ve never seen a hat quite as…unique as yours. It suits you.” Fili blushed and smiled, and the nervous tension dissipated. The two found themselves in easy conversation, telling stories and sharing secrets—Fili somehow still managed to keep his identity under wraps. He told stories from the quest to reclaim Erebor, feeling his heart grow warm and his brain go fuzzy as Raymel listened with all the fascination of a young child. She told of her own journey to the Lonely Mountain from Ered Luin with her family: her mother, father, and four younger brothers. They both understood well the strain and humor that came with being older siblings. 

The two dwarves talked for hours on end, though neither noticed how much time had passed. Raymel had just finished regaling Fili with the tale of chasing her half-dressed younger brothers through the streets of Ered Luin on a feast day when the comfortable hum of noise from the front room of the pub came to an abrupt halt. The prince felt is heart drop when Balin’s voice rang out. 

“There’s no need to be troubled, friends, but we’re in a bit of a pinch,” Balin began, using the overly calm voice Fili knew too well was saved for when the white-haired dwarf was utterly enraged, “Have any of you, by any chance, seen his highness Prince Fili here this evening? Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a braided mustache. Any takers?” Fili sat frozen in fear, staring through the cracks in the barrels and waiting for the perfect moment to make a dash for the back exit. 

Raymel was staring at the prince as sudden realization dawned on her. For the second time that night, she grabbed Fili’s hand, dragging him as quietly as she could out through the delivery door. In his surprise, the blonde dwarf accidentally knocked over his mug, sending it clattering to the floor. The sudden sound immediately alerted Balin and the guards he’d brought along, and the troop immediately took off in the direction of the noise. 

Fili struggled to keep up as Raymel quickly weaved the two of them through the darkened streets of Erebor’s market district. The prince felt his heart began to hammer in his chest when he heard the clatter and shouts of the guards behind them. Suddenly, Raymel yanked his arm hard and pulled them both into an alleyway, just as a small group of royal guards passed them. Fili felt surprisingly warm for being in a cramped, dank passageway. He discovered why when he looked down. 

Raymel had pinned herself against the building wall and pulled Fili just about as close as was physically possible. He tried to hold back a shiver as her warm breath brushed across his neck. He didn’t even notice Raymel snatch his hat from atop his head, causing the hair that had come loose from the leather tie during their run to cascade around his shoulders. The barmaid smiled and prodded one of his mustache beads. The prince’s eyes remained trained on her face, looking for any sign of emotion. Fili’s breath hitched when their eyes finally met. 

Before either dwarf knew what was happening, Raymel’s lips were on the prince’s, and Fili’s hands soon found their way to the barmaid’s lower back and the base of her neck. Raymel’s hand slid up to tangle in Fili’s hair, and the blonde growled in response, further flattening the brunette against the wall behind her. Fili felt as though some of Gandalf’s signature fireworks were exploding behind his eyelids. Something in his chest cavity felt suddenly whole. He felt _alive_. 

It was Dwalin’s voice, not his older brother’s, that broke Fili and Raymel apart. The two young dwarves stared at each other, panting lightly, not sure exactly what to call the pure bliss they both felt. Fili was ready to say something, _anything_ to try and explain himself to Raymel, but the barmaid put two fingers over his lips before he could. She stood on her tip-toes and placed a kiss on the prince’s cheek, and Fili tried to contain a shudder as his beard brushed hers. 

“I hope to see you again soon, your highness,” Raymel whispered in his ear, “Now, you better get going, before the royal nanny finds you.” Quick as a flash, she slid out from Fili’s embrace and trotted off down the alleyway, scooping up the prince’s discarded disguise and placing it atop her head. The blonde prince’s gaze lingered on her retreating form until she finally turned the corner. Even then, it took another shout from Dwalin for him to move from his spot. Fili steeled himself and sauntered in the opposite direction of the barmaid, taking a couple of turns until he found the sons of Fundin in the middle of the market square. 

“Mister Dwalin! Mister Balin! What’s with all the fuss?” he called casually. The dwarves in question turned abruptly to face him, Balin rushing over to check on him. 

“Where in Mahal’s name have ye been, laddie?” the white-bearded dwarf asked, that earlier hidden fury back in his voice, “We’ve been searching for you everywhere!” Fili was too high off bliss to care about Balin’s tone or Dwalin’s glare. 

“I was just taking a stroll about my future kingdom, Mister Balin,” the prince responded cooly, “I thought it’d be best to mingle with the common folks and get to know all the hidden beauty Erebor has to offer.” Both sons of Fundin looked taken aback by Fili’s answer, and the prince did an internal victory dance. 

“Well, then, I guess that’s all right,” Balin said after a brief silence, “Just, next time, _tell_ somebody? We’d like to not have to worry about your safety, lad.” Fili rolled his eyes good-naturedly and smiled. 

“Come now, Balin, Dwalin,” he began, stepping up towards the two and placing a hand on Balin’s shoulder, “I’m a grown dwarf. I can watch over myself and make responsible choices.” Dwalin gave a grunt at that and Balin chuckled. Fili sighed internally in relief that he hadn’t been caught. _But…_ he thought as he caught a flash of blue velvet under the torchlight of the square and the fleeting sound of a tinkling laugh, _maybe it wouldn’t be_ so _bad if I had._

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the song Fili and Raymel play if you want to take a listen! 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpVobgdiyVU#t=49


End file.
